


But There Are, Still, The Roses

by saturnina



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Ethan Muses, F/M, Ficlet, Het and Slash, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Possibly OOC, Post-Canon, Post-Finale, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Some Fluff, Stolen Moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-02-02 22:16:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21322831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturnina/pseuds/saturnina
Summary: Such was the charge of darkness. It drew people inescapably close–for better or worse.
Relationships: Ethan Chandler/Victor Frankenstein
Kudos: 29





	But There Are, Still, The Roses

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a small piece written to help me stretch my rather stiff writing muscles before the Yuletide! It is also meant to help me getting back in gear and finish a longer Penny Dreadful fic I’ve been writing since dinosaurs roamed the Earth. No real plot or anything… I just wanted to give these two darlings a small measure of comfort after the bleak ending of the series.
> 
> Enjoy~

_We do not_  
_look to see_  
_jonquils and violets_  
_come again_  
_but there are,_  
_still,_  
_the roses!_   
(“The Ivy Crown” by William Carlos Williams)

His eyelids felt dry and leaden as they creaked open after a barely slept night. The light that filtered through the dirty window danced before his unaccustomed vision in the roseate hues of early dawn, and he felt light-headed, as if still under the influence. They had once again forgotten the shutters open, their unexpected passion not leaving much room for such concerns.

Ethan winced as he attempted to stretch his chest, right before remembering the precious weight on it. A mop of dark curls and the very soft snoring of the young man with whom he had spent the night. 

The last many nights, actually.

He had not meant for things to happen that way when he first returned to London looking for Dr Victor Frankenstein, after a period of lonely mourning. Goodness, no. But somewhere deep inside himself he believed that, considering the many losses they had all experienced, it would be an insult to life itself to waste any scraps of tenderness they could salvage. And if Vanessa could see them now, wherever she was (her soul finally in peace, Ethan hoped and prayed), she would surely be smiling.

Such was the charge of darkness. It drew people inescapably close–for better or worse. Whether they could step out into the light together was yet a thing to be seen.

Ethan looked down at the sleeping doctor, glad his carelessness had not awakened him just yet. Victor could use a lot of sleep, even more now that he spent the days busy, caring after the living for a change. The doctor was doing quite well, in spite of all he had endured… a little less pale, and there was more meat on his bones. Oh, and less puncture marks on his arms–Ethan always made sure of that when he was around.

Combing his fingers through Victor’s hair, with a lightness of touch unusual for him, Ethan allowed himself to sink into some of that comfortable warmth. The warmth of Victor’s living and breathing body, the remnant warmth of their nightly pleasure. The warmth of his own heart as he, despite the guilt-ridden death wish that overtook him sometimes, dared still to live.

Brona. Vanessa. He had loved them. He still did. And it always surprised him to discover, inside the beast that he knew himself to be, a heart capable of loving. 

“Goodness, must you think so loudly?”

Ethan looked down and was rewarded with the part-sleepy, part-mischievous glint of Victor’s eyes. He could not help the smile that pushed through his lips.

“Must be all the rust on your mental cogwheels,” Victor quipped, hiding a smile against Ethan’s naked chest. “Lack of use will do that.”

“Hm, is that good humour I see?’

“As good as it can be after sleeping only three hours.”

“Courtesy of yours truly.”

“Indeed.”

Victor crawled further up the bed to lie next Ethan, and the American turned on his side so they could face each other. They had been like this since their first tryst, bodies moving smoothly in unison so that both would fit comfortably against each other. Very little awkwardness or shame. It was hard to believe they had been so antagonistic when they first met, aeons ago.

“You should rest some more.”

“Hm, yes,” Victor mused, his voice still thick with sleep, but with just enough sultriness in it to make Ethan’s blood pump a little harder in his veins. “But later, not now.”

He pressed his hand against Ethan’s shoulder, gently prompting him to lie flat on his back as Victor straddled his hips and stopped down to nuzzle his whiskered cheek. Ethan chuckled, and the doctor pulled back to cast a slightly miffed glance at him.

“What is so funny?”

“Nothing. I’ve always known you to be a man to ride the river with but never took you for the snuggling type.”

Victor looked at him as if he could not gather a word of what he meant and Ethan took his confusion as an opportunity to switch their positions. He shut Victor’s mumbled protest with a kiss. 

“I won’t tell, darlin'”. And Victor’s evident annoyance dissolved in a sigh when Ethan kissed his neck hungrily.

Despite the joy they had recently found in each other, Ethan was not foolish enough to believe that they could ever be free from the sins of their past. After all they had seen and done, there was no doubt Hell would always be around, waiting to catch them unawares and swallow them whole. Every full Moon he was painfully reminded of that. 

But for now... Just for now, the newborn day spread over their bodies in tendrils of light. And it was all the brighter because of the darkness that had united them.

~ the end ~

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** None of the characters mentioned in this fanfic belong to me, and nothing said here about them is true. No copyright infringement is intended.


End file.
